


By the Book

by Remisfriend26



Category: White Collar
Genre: Discipline, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 18:45:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12538716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Remisfriend26/pseuds/Remisfriend26
Summary: A missing scene from S2 E4. Neal lets Mozzie talk him into breaking and entering when Mozzie's diner friend goes missing. Peter isn't happy to find out what Neal's up to because it's not the first time this has happened. Warning: contains discipline of an adult by a mentor.





	By the Book

**Author's Note:**

> A little different today but this is a fic I wrote for White Collar... Which is SO full of Neal causing mischief and it driving Peter mad :-) Enjoy!
> 
> PS: sadly I own nothing, I just play with the characters for fun.

Previously, on _White Collar_

Earlier that day, Mozzie had "somewhere important to be." More precisely, Margo’s Diner, to talk to the charming waitress, Gina, who shares his interest in easy conversation and thrillers. Suddenly, two men enter the establishment and Gina turns serious, asking if Mozzie really has contacts at the FBI, because things "are serious." Mozzie watches in alarm, as the newcomers -- whom Gina calls Vince and Mike -- ask the waitress to take her break early. Before leaving, Gina tells Moz to read Snap of the Twig, a book they discussed previously, in which a girl gets kidnapped.

This has Mozzie so distressed, he does the unthinkable -- he meets Neal in the FBI elevator to ask for back-up. Neal agrees, though he doesn't quite see the urgency, but clearly sees no harm in having the rather inexperienced Agent Blake run Gina's name through the system... and thus find out her unlisted address.

And now the conclusion 

As soon as Neal had the information he needed, he contacted his friend and they were soon heading towards Gina’s apartment at a quick pace.

“Gina's been taken, I just know it,” Mozzie worried.

“Maybe she's sick in bed, " Neal offered. Sure it was nice to have a distraction from work -- the case Peter had them working on really wasn’t that intriguing. It was a dermatologist, after all. What could he do? Dermabrase people too severely? As they walked, Neal scrunched up the post-it note containing Gina’s address. They knew where she lived; no point in keeping incriminating evidence.

Mozzie shook his head vehemently. “No one goes off the grid like this." 

"How'd you make a file on her and not get her address?” Neal asked with just a hint of annoyance.

“You know, I don't just go around looking up people; I'm not some kind of a stalker," Mozzie replied to his skeptical friend. Neal just responded by giving him _the look._ If he wasn’t a stalker, then who had handed Neal the rather substantial file he’d collected on Gina? Mozzie grew exasperated with the unvoiced doubt. "She's unlisted." Mozzie continued. "There _is_ a line, Neal.”

“Well, the FBI crossed it for you," Neal replied, slowly but surely running out of patience. 

“Now what do we do?” Mozzie asked as they came to a halt in front of his friend's home.

“You could knock,” Neal said, feeling he was very much stating the obvious here.

“I can't knock! She's unlisted!” Mozzie didn’t understand why Neal was being quite so unhelpful today. “How do I explain how I found her?” 

Well, Neal wasn’t going to hang outside her apartment all day, so he decided to be more decisive. “All right, I'll do it. I'll tell her I'm looking for the last tenant.” He moved forward swiftly, but his friend instantly tried to intervene. 

“Oh, don't!” Mozzie pled, stopping his determined friend from taking another step. 

“She doesn't know who I am,” Neal reasoned calmly, unsure why Mozzie was being so weird, even by their stranger-than-normal standards.

“You ever wonder why you've never been introduced?" Mozzie explained. "She meets you and suddenly I become the quirky friend.”

Neal tried not to roll his eyes as he stuffed his hands in his pockets looking for patience. “What do you suggest, Moz?”

Mozzie ran down the steps to the lower-level home and rapped on the door sharply before dashing back out of the entrance again and throwing his back up against the front wall of the house.

Neil smiled as he thought his friend was finally going to man up and check on Gina himself. “There you go- what are you- oh my God," Neal stepped quickly against the wall beside his friend, as if they could hide in plain sight. "This is really mature," he whispered.

Mozzie dug an old-time stethoscope from the crossbody bag he carried as Neal continued to look around them cautiously. Mozzie hurried back to the front door, placing the round metal against its surface, and began to listen. 

Neal stepped closer. "Anything?”

Mozzie looked up at him earnestly. Neil could easily see the fear in his eyes as the smaller man listened a beat longer before shaking his head. “This does not bode well," Mozzie replied. He dug back into his bag, coming up quickly with his next tool. "Peep hole reverser," he said, showing Neal his find. He peeped into the home. "Her place is trashed. Oh, God, we got to get in there…”

Neal sighed at the look his best friend shot at him, stepping towards the door. “All right, you better starting thinking of ways to convince Peter this falls under exigent circumstances,” he informed the shorter man mildly, sliding his faithful lock-picking kit out of his pocket and getting to work.

***

The Burkes were having lunch in the outside area of a nice little restaurant, with tablecloths and fresh flowers adorning the center of their table, but Elizabeth Burke noticed immediately that her husband’s mind was miles away. She smiled as she watched her husband absentmindedly chew at his sandwich. “Bite, chew three times, swallow. Think. Honey, you're either having a gastronomic epiphany or it's a case.”

Peter glanced over at his wife, a small smile tugging at his lips as he shook his head ruefully. She knew him so well. “It's Neal. There was this thing with the elevator.”

“Thing?” Elizabeth asked, eyebrows raised.

“When he stepped off, he was shifty…”

“Uh-oh. I know how you are with shifty,” Elizabeth replied before swallowing her iced tea and taking another bite of her lunch.” She was supportive of her husband’s job most of the time, but every now and then a well-aimed nudge was a good way to remind him she was important, too.

Peter was just about to dive into a long explanation, but then he reconsidered. He grinned sheepishly at his wife’s teasing tone, “You know what? You're right, you're right... Enough about Neal. This is our last lunch together for a week.”

“You gonna survive without me?” Even after so many years of marriage, they missed each other terribly when they were not together. El did want a moment just between the two of them so they’d have something to remember.

Peter pretended to look affronted. “Did you forget I did a lot of the cooking when we first met?”

Elizabeth grinned, nodding in memory. “Yeah… I have all of the takeout menus in the top drawer.” 

Peter laughed, nodding in defeat. “That's what I love about you.” Elizabeth giggled as she forked another bitefull. 

Peter’s phone rang before they were able to joke any further. "Sorry," he said. 

"It's ok," came Elizabeth's experienced reply. And she meant it. If he had a phone call to take, she could wait. 

Of course, it was work. “Agent Blake, don’t you eat lunch?” Peter asked, somewhere between amused and a little exasperated. Was it really asking so much to get twenty minutes with his wife?

“Yes sir,” Agent Blake answered over the phone, “But I wanted to let you know Caffrey was right about the dermatologist, but there's no connection with that other name he had me run.”

Peter shot El the I-knew-he-was-up-to-something look. “Oh, right. The name _Neal_ had you run. What was that again?”

“Gina De Stefano,” Agent Blake answered.

“Gina De Stefano,” Peter repeated aloud, the name not really ringing any bells. Suddenly, El lifted her finger. “Well, hold on Blake,” he said, putting the phone down for a minute and looking to his wife for answers.

“When Mozzie was over sweeping the house, he mentioned some waitress he was bonding with over mystery novels. I think that's her.”

Peter was once again impressed about how resourceful El could be. He never paid attention to other people’s flings if he could avoid it. He placed the phone back to his ear and ended the conversation with a brief “Yeah, Blake. Keep monitoring. I'll be back soon.” 

Then he glanced at his wife. “Mozzie has a crush,” he explained, amused.

Elizabeth smiled fondly. “Happens.”

***

Back at the office, Peter ordered his two best agents to see what kind of mischief Neal had been up to -- right in front of their noses. They had the security footage of the elevator, showing him and Mozzie, and the info they had on Gina did sound like trouble was afoot.

Peter, Jones and Diana paused their conversation, glancing over the files in front of them.  
Jones interrupted the quiet first, drawing Peter’s attention with confusion. “Peter, look at this…” 

Peter looked over the file Jones held out to him, frowning as he realised what his colleague was referring to before glancing up, looking between Jones and Diana. “Where are Neal and Mozzie?”

Now it was Diana’s turn to look up in concern. “What's the problem?”

Peter grimaced, trying not to swear. “Pull Caffrey's tracking detail!” he insisted urgently.

Jones was moving before he’d finished the order. “Already on it!”

“Peter, what's going on?” Diana asked, not liking not being in the loop.

Peter turned to Diana, brown eyes filled with concern. “Tommy's linked to him,” he explained, pushing the folder in his hand across the conference table towards her. 

Diana’s face scrunched in concern. “Christopher Navarro.”

“I need someone to find out where Caffrey is right now!” Peter announced loudly, the urge to curse forgotten in his worry for his young protege.

***

Finding a clue to the cigar bar Mozzie frequented, the con men hurried to the next location. It was still daylight, but the club’s doors were locked. The opening hours were printed in large letters on the glass panel of the door. They left quite a lot of time to conduct shady business during regular working hours. Neal found he once again would need to pick a lock in order to further their investigation. He pushed the thought about Peter's potential disapproval to the back of his mind as he worked the door.

"Hurry!" Mozzie ordered in a loud whisper, stepping quickly into the shadows as he hid in the nearby gated alley. 

"Alright, Moz," Neal replied between his teeth, making quick work of the lock before stepping inside. 

He tiptoed down the hall upon hearing a voice in the distance. Peering carefully around a doorjamb, he spotted a group of men seated at a corner table, talking business. As he heard the words, “In Columbia, we’d take a walk in the jungle right about now,” Neal knew he was in way over his head. There were even more men standing around the table, and he felt frighteningly outnumbered.

As the discussion continued, Neal grimaced as his phone buzzed in his jacket pocket, disrupting the otherwise quiet room. He slid it out of it’s nest, frowning when he read the quick text from Diana. 

\--Contact Burke ASAP--

The situation went from bad to worse as he realized that the man who seemed to be in charge and his crew had heard the sound and were quickly moving to track down the source of the noise interrupting their meeting. He was just putting the phone away discreetly when it vibrated again, this time with a text from Moz. 

\--Guns!--

It was rare for Neal to feel trapped. But with guns potentially in front of him and guns surely behind him, crouching by a doorway was no longer an option. He dipped into a nearby door, realizing it was the humidor room and counting his blessings that it had a lock on the inside. Quickly shutting the door behind him, he jammed his lockpick into the lock so it couldn’t be opened with a key from the other side, and peeked through the glass door to see if anyone was behind him. The Columbian had clearly seen him and, for a brief moment, there was a staredown while Neal's brain devised his next move and the thug ordered a man to open the door. Neal began to look for another way out when he heard a familiar voice -- and cringed.

“Everything alright in here?” Agent Burke asked as he entered through the front door, conveniently left open by the con man. He recognised Navarro instantly, and it only took him a moment to see what danger Neal had put himself in. The thugs outside the humidor had their guns out, and Neal was more than just caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

_Of course_ the FBI had decided to show up then. In a way, Neal felt relieved, as he did not know his way around the premises, which meant other than trying to escape through a vent in the ceiling too high for him to reach, he had no way out. For now, he could just let Peter diffuse the situation, and he could always come up with a way to explain himself later, away from all the guns. On the downside, Mozzie would now have to man up and work directly with the FBI, but that could only up the chances of actually finding his friend Gina.

“We're closed for business,” Navarro growled at him. 

Peter didn’t blink an eye. “Special Agent Burke, FBI. Got a report someone broke in here. Thought I'd do my duty and stop a crime in progress, but I see... you men are already on that.”  
Neal had been working with Peter long enough to know that his friend and mentor would find a solution to the missing waitress and slipped out of sight to wait for a sign from the seasoned agent. Sure enough, Burke caught his eye a few moments later, beckoning him with two fingers. Neal cautiously opened the door to the humidor, stepping into the hallway that was by now rather cramped with thugs and and FBI agents alike. He kept his features carefully schooled and his mouth shut.

Peter couldn't help but enjoy what came next, especially since he knew Neal wouldn't enjoy what would eventually come for him. 

"If this man entered your place of business illegally," Peter offered helpfully, "you have every right to press charges."

Neal swallowed carefully, knowing that Peter would already be thinking up some kind of punishment for his latest misdeed and hoping this wouldn't be the time Peter decided to exercise a little tough love by actually letting him get arrested. Again. 

Relief coursed through him as he heard Navarro say he wasn’t interested in wasting paper on him by pressing charges, but a look at Burke’s face warned him that he had certainly crossed a line by breaking into the building. Peter didn’t know about the breaking-and-entering at Gina’s flat right now, which was a small mercy as far as the ex-con was concerned. 

Peter motioned to Diana to remove Neal from the premises and Neal obediently let Diana lead him out the door and back outside onto the street, Peter angrily close on their heels. "Where's the little guy," Peter demanded. 

Neal called out to Moz to let him know it was safe to make a reappearance now that they were back in the daylight away from immediate danger.

***

The rest of the day had been nothing but tortuous for Neal. Peter had been grouchy, though exceedingly polite to Moz, who acted paranoid and mad as a hatter. The FBI agent honestly wanted to help them, and Neal for one was glad he didn’t have to hide his actions any more. Their chances of actually achieving something had also increased now that the others were officially also on the case.

The young man felt increasingly more uncomfortable as the day went on. Instead of ripping him a new one there and then, Peter had been very professional, ‘only’ pointing out the laws he had broken. No word had been lost about violation of trust, and the ‘oh-oh’-feeling inside Neal was strong. This did not bode well for him --or his hide. 

Neal was grateful that Mozzie was so concerned about Gina he didn’t pay much attention to anything else, or maybe he was already so uncomfortable with being inside the FBI’s offices, he just didn’t have room for anything else in his mind.

But those who knew him well could see the tension in Agent Burke and that he was just a little _too_ polite to Neal. Jones and Diana exchanged glances as they were alone with Neal and Peter, but both decided to leave well enough alone. Neal had dug his own grave.

“Don’t leave the office. That’s an order.”

Those were the words Peter had whispered into Neal's ear, so softly none of the others in the office had picked up on it. Neal knew he was in trouble, but at the same time he really hated feeling like a naughty schoolboy who had been given detention.

But really, there was only so much work Neal could _pretend_ to do until even he thought it looked suspicious. So, in the end, he just sat at his desk, watching and waiting, as the other agents busied themselves with their _real_ work and eventually left for home. It took forever until Peter called him into his office, and the whole floor seemed eerily quiet.

“Sit,” Peter said as soon as Neal had entered his office. He watched with wide eyes as Agent Burke let down the blinds, blocking the view from the hallway. Neal instantly knew what was up and almost took an involuntary step back. 

“What’s with the blinds, Peter?” Neal asked carefully, trying not to panic.

“Geez, Neal. You’re a smart guy. You tell me.” Peter turned to face him, his work done. “And close that door.”

Neal hesitated a moment, but closed the door behind him. He cleared his throat. “Peter, I know you’re mad and… I know why I’m in trouble, but surely...” 

Peter furrowed his brow. “Surely what?” 

Neal could feel his palms get clammy. “Not… _here_?”

“No, you’re right. We should go back to the humidor. The ambience there was nicer.” 

Neal bit back a smart reply. There was no point in making this any worse for himself. “What if someone… hears us?” Involuntarily, Neal’s last words had come out almost as a whisper.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Neal. I should have known you’d be concerned about your reputation. As much as you are about mine.”

Neal sheepishly cast his eyes to the floor. It was true. He had broken the law while on Peter’s watch. He had spent the last three hours trying to come up with ways to appease his handler, but right here and now, they all sounded lame and he couldn’t bring himself to actually say any of them out loud. “That… that wasn’t my intention.”

“Do you have any idea how much danger you put yourself in today, Neal? Screw going to jail -- you could have ended up at the bottom of the Hudson for that little stunt you pulled.”

Neal nodded mutely. He had hoped for more of a negotiation before Peter _handled_ things, but this conversation was slipping away from him pretty fast. 

“But it’s okay, I’m sure that wasn’t your intention either,” Peter finished as an afterthought.

Neal knew he was being paranoid -- spending all day with Moz could do that to a guy -- but he thought he could hear people on the other side of the glass panel. “But… what if the cleaning crew hear us?” he said, looking around suspiciously.

“You’re not taking this seriously at all, are you, Neal?” Peter asked with a scowl.

“What? No… of course I am, but-”

“The cleaners come at 8; it is now 7:30. And that has nothing to do with why you think you have the right to ask my agents to run background checks for you. Without checking in with me first.” Peter sent him a disapproving look that almost made Neal literally squirm. He still hadn’t sat down, and he looked on in horror as Peter moved his chair out of the way, clearly making room on the table for something… or someone.

“I’m sorry about that,” Neal muttered. He still couldn’t believe Peter wanted to go through with it… right there in the FBI building! “I’m not saying you shouldn’t do it-”

“Good. Because I have every _intention_ of doing this,” Peter said, as he started to unbutton and carefully roll up the right sleeve of his blue shirt.

“What I meant to say was,” Neal added hastily, “could we please not do it here? Peter, please?” Neal thought he would die of shame if someone overheard them.

“I have access to all floor cameras, Neal. There’s nobody here.” Peter continued with the other sleeve unperturbed. He looked directly at Neal. “Plus, right now, I don’t really care if the setting makes you feel comfortable or not.” 

“I don’t want to agree to this.” Neal was close to tears by now. Peter was usually very reasonable, and he must be especially disappointed in him to be quite so angry.

“Are you saying you don’t deserve a good thrashing for what you did today?” Peter dared him to disagree. “You went behind my back. You used FBI resources for your own gain. Reckless behaviour, going outside of your radius--”

“I didn’t do _that_ ,” Neal protested. Because it was true. He hadn’t. 

“Oh. So you have permission to go inside a locked business? Guess stupid me just didn’t get the memo.” Peter crossed his arms across his chest. “But you _do_ realize that tracking device restricts you from certain behaviour?”

Neal hated being talked down to like this. Of course he knew about all his restrictions. He decided not to go for the bait but just nodded, jaw clenched.

“I didn’t hear you there.”

Neal sighed. “Yes, Peter. I know I have restrictions.” And I don’t need you to remind me, he added silently.

“Then we both know you’re too smart to be acting so irresponsibly.” They both looked at each other, the word _stupid_ hanging between them tensely.

“Can we please do this at home?” Neal knew he was starting to sound like a broken record, but this was a dealbreaker. He just could not bring himself to submit in such a public setting.

Peter had him by the biceps before he knew what was happening. “Damnit, Neal. Could you for _once_ just do as you’re damned well told?” 

Peter grabbed him by the back of his coat, spun him around and stripped him of the garment in a flash. Neal had once seen him do that with Elizabeth and thought it was quite the elegant move, but he didn’t really appreciate it as much now. A firm hand in the small of his back moved him towards the table. “Hands on the desk. You know the drill.”

Neal’s heart beat fast in his chest. From the corner of his eye he could see Peter next to him taking off his belt. He inhaled sharply, close to panic. “Not here, Peter!”

“Maybe, if you put half the effort into keeping yourself safe as you do protecting your pride, we won’t have to repeat this. Bend over.”

Neal just froze. He didn’t want to upset Peter any further, but seriously, he just couldn’t do this, no matter how sorry he felt. “Not. Here.” He felt petulant saying that, and he was aware that technically, Peter had never really needed his consent. The agent was bigger and stronger, and most of all, in the right.

“For the love of….” Peter let out a sigh of his own. He had not intended to do this, but Neal always found a weak spot. He placed his hand on Neal’s neck and gently turned him towards his computer. He jiggled the mouse and the screen lit up -- showing a bird’s-eye-view of the corridor outside and the adjacent offices. “There is nobody here, Neal,” he said gently. “And the only body we know who likes breaking into the offices of the FBI is right here. I’ll leave the screen up if it makes you feel any better?”

By now, Neal was feeling so guilty, he didn’t even want to make eye contact. “Does that mean I’ll lose the pants?” he asked cautiously.

“You can drop ‘em now.”

Neal swallowed hard. His eyes wandered over the screen to his left -- there really was nobody in sight, let alone earshot, so he really didn’t know where this irrational fear of being discovered came from, he only knew he really didn’t like it. He inhaled deeply, gathered his resolve and unbuttoned his fly. The zipper was undone, the pants loosened and he bent forward as he let them slide down his hips. Not wanting Peter to admonish him any more than he already had, he placed his elbows and palms on the desk, and closed his eyes.

“You know why we’re here?” Peter stood close beside him, hand on his lower back.

“Yes, Peter. Can we please just get it over with?” 

“As you wish,” the agent replied. “Hold still. This one’s gonna hurt.” He’d decided before that there would be no warm-up today; Neal’s offences were too grave this time. His behaviour today had been too reckless, too impulsive, to deserve any leniency. Peter was not keen on teaching this lesson more than once.

He carefully folded the belt, securing the buckle in his hand, before he brought it down hard across Neal’s backside. Although it licked across both cheeks, he knew Neal would feel it the most on the opposite side, so he systematically switched sides after the first ten strokes. He could tell Neal was having a hard time holding still, so he allowed him a short while to compose himself before he started afresh. 

Peter would have preferred doing this at home, in more privacy, too, but Neal just didn’t listen, so maybe a little humiliation and a small reminder that he did not always get his way would help drive the message home. After a while, Neal started being a bit more vocal, though not as loud as he normally was. Evidently something in him knew that he had no real reason to play the sympathy card today.

Just as Peter thought he had Neal figured out (for the day), the younger man held up his hand, a silent plea to stop. “What?” Peter asked, weary of Neal’s shenanigans. 

“Not so… fast,” Neal bit out between gritted teeth. He had wanted to say _hard_ , but that had seemed even more like begging, so he’d gone for the other option. 

“Excuse me?” Peter wasn’t angry per se, but he did feel a little… miffed.

“You don’t usually start with the belt… I can’t… take much more,” Neal stammered, trying hard not to sound too emotional. He’d known before they started that it would -- quite literally -- end in tears, but he wasn’t prepared for it happening so fast. He knew it was stupid, but when he felt the pain come too fast for him to cope with, it really just made him angry instead of sorry. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to behave, but in a situation like this he felt he physically _couldn’t_.

Peter almost rolled his eyes. “I’m being harder on you because you deserve it, Neal. Now quit messing around.” Neal’s arm remained outstretched behind his back, the fingers of his hand spread. 

“Neal?” The warning was clear in Peter’s voice. 

“It’s too intense… I… just can’t,” Neal said, clearly in distress.

Peter sighed. He knew Neal wasn’t really good with pain, which was precisely why a spanking did him the world of good. But if he wasn’t doing his part, then this could go sideways fast. Peter knew where the problem was, as they’d been there before, so he decided to switch tactics.

“So you _do_ know how to talk to me then? Alright, Neal, I hear you. It’s too intense. If you need more of a warm-up, that’s okay. I’m not mad.”

The older man placed the belt on the table, then he pulled Neal up a little and manoevered him out of the way, so there was enough room to place himself between Neal and the desk. When he pulled the younger man back over, he was bent across his handler’s hip, and his backside was once again perfectly placed for punishment. He continued to rain down hard smacks with the palm of his hand, and he could feel Neal squirming in his grasp. But there was less tension in the younger man’s body than before, and Neal clearly felt more composed. 

Neal didn’t cry when he felt too highly strung; he just couldn’t bring himself to do it, and the change of position had given him a chance to relax a bit more, to allow Peter to take control of the situation completely. The belt had left a nasty sting every time Peter brought it down across his backside, the soft cotton of his briefs offering barely any protection at all, but it had been a lot more intense than anything he’d received before. Feeling Peter’s hand on his backside felt familiar and, although it hurt a lot, Neal didn’t feel overwhelmed by the pain. It wasn’t fun, it wasn’t something he wanted, but at least this way he could accept what was happening. 

Peter allowed Neal some time to settle down, then he picked up the pace. He spanked hard and meticulously, and ere long it was obvious that Neal had started to cry. Peter had no intention of stopping before he did, and it was a sure sign that Neal was in the right headspace. By allowing himself to cry, instead of talking back and arguing, he was accepting responsibility for his actions. 

When Peter was sure that Neal was very sorry and regretted his actions, he allowed him to cry a little while longer before placing a hand on his upper back. “Neal?” Peter said. “Almost done.” He patted his hip, signalling the younger man to move. 

Neal rubbed at his eyes and turned around enough to face the older man. As expected, Peter was now holding the belt. 

“How many?” Neal asked.

“You tell me.” 

Neal had almost expected to have the question thrown back at him, but he hated it all the same. Did he really have to make himself more miserable? He blinked back more tears as he thought it over. “Twelve?”

“Mm-hm,” Peter nodded with approval. “Sound about right.” For a moment he thought about letting Neal keep his boxers on, but to his surprise, Neal took one last look at the cameras on the screen, then pulled them down himself and bent himself back over the desk. His backside looked a lot redder than Peter had ever seen it before, and a number of welts already stood out. A cold belting definitely left a different impression, and Peter felt proud that Neal had taken his punishment so well today. “You did well today, kiddo. Let’s keep that up, shall we?” 

Neal nodded, taking a deep breath before forcing himself to relax. He took a steadier hold of the edge of Peter’s desk and let his mentor’s reassuring words give him the energy he needed to try to see this through bravely. Peter’s hand on his back helped him settle further, and by the time he heard the belt move through the air, he just wanted Peter to finish his punishment without any more delays.

Had there been more people in the office, the next six strokes would have surely made them gather round on the other side of the glass, and Peter’s heart went out to the younger man’s cries. But he intended to finish what he’d started, so he swiftly changed sides and landed the last six in quick succession. They weren’t as hard as the first set, though he doubted that Neal would notice.

Peter placed his hand on Neal’s back and allowed him some time to cry, but Neal was done faster than usual. Before he had to ask, Peter reassured him with a, “We’re done,” that it was okay for him to get up and fix his clothes. 

“I’m sorry, Peter. It won’t happen again.”

Peter wasn’t sure if Neal meant that he wouldn’t do it again, or that he thought Peter wouldn’t _catch_ him again, but decided to let it slide. For now.

The agent pulled Neal in for a hug before the young man could protest. “I will catch you if it does,” he said gently as Neal hugged him back tightly.

The End 


End file.
